Know What You Are
by Astraphobia
Summary: Amelia Jane is a sociopath that ends up in Arkham Asylum, while she's there, she meets non other than The Joker himself. Anything is possible when these two cross paths. Violence, gore, sexual situations, torture, murder, language. I'm bad at summaries.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: So, this is going to be pretty fucked up, if I do say so myself. Be wary of major violence, sexual situations, murder, vulgar language, torture, all that good stuff! I came up with the concept of this story today, don't know if I'm going to continue it or not. I've got a good idea where to take it but I would like to know if anyone is going to read it or not. Let me know! The title is from the song: You Know What You Are by Nine Inch Nails. The story is going to tie into that song, in some ways at least. Again, let me know if I should continue. Oh, violence and gore in this chapter, you've been warned! R/R :]**

"_Please_...stop, please. I-I'll do an-anything just st-op." the bleeding and bludgeoned man tried to beg of Amelia who was pacing in front of him, resuming her circling of him as his cries ceased, a large hunting knife gleaming in between her petite fingers.

"I'm sorry, what was that? Did you ask for me to _**stop**_?" Amelia whispered in an eerily calm tone of voice, running her long fingernails through his thinning blond hair. The portly man shivered under her touch, the scent of his fear evident to the both of them, she inhaled the sweet smell, holding her breathe momentarily.

"Please, miss. I can get y-you any, anything you w-want. Just please,_ please_ stop." at this the man broke into tears once again, trying as hard as he could to tear through his restraints, a feeble and futile attempt on his part.

Amelia felt a surge of gratification and superiority at the blubbering man strapped in the chair. Knowing just what she was doing to him, how terrified and frightened he was of her and what she was capable of, sent a sensual chill over her entire frame. Something about the very act of torturing and killing her victims gave her an almost sexual thrill, it needn't matter if she was attracted to them or not, it wasn't about their looks; it was about the very pitch of their screams, the way they would writhe in pain, the way the light would leave their eyes.

"Now, Franklin, it was Franklin wasn't it?" she questioned as she circled him once again, giving his sweating, bleeding, cheek and forehead a once over. She squinted her cold blue eyes over his injuries.

_Not nearly enough._

The fourty something man looked up to her with pleading puppy dog eyes, an expression she found quite humorous. "Yes ma'am." Obviously assuming by kissing her ass he would survive the night.

"Do you want to know something that I abo-_so_-lute-ly, **hate**? Hm?" she grinned icily at the sight of his face tensing, the look of fear and dread washing over his flushed face. "It's rude to ignore a lady when she speaks. I asked you a **question**, _Frank_." she inquired through gritted teeth.

Franklin shivered outwardly at her penetrating stare, "Nawh, no. I-I don't."

Amelia's veins flowed with excitement, the anticipation was beginning to become more irritating than pleasurable. "I hate when people act so tough but when, oh let's say," Amelia stopped momentarily to grin down at her most trusted knife before plunging it deep into Franklin's bloated abdomen. He gave a deep guttural cry, his mouth slowly filling with scarlet liquid. Amelia involuntarily ran her tongue over her bottom lip, studying the dilation of pain in his eyes and the way his agonizing scream elated her to no end. "when I just **nick** them up a bit," she emphasized the word 'nick' by yanking the knife out of his abdomen, a puddle of crimson forming around her heels, her knife dripping the same blood that surrounded her black heels. He screamed a few moments after she had pulled out the knife, his body beginning to go into shock from the amount of pain. "they scream like little girls."

Amelia giggled as she ran the tip of her blade over his shoulder, pushing it in a mere inch, just to see what he would do. The result was a loud whimper of pain from Franklin, this only made her giggle louder.

"Why, wh-why?" croaked Franklin, catching Amelia off guard. She was surprised he was still as coherent as he was, he obviously hadn't lost enough blood, yet.

_Why? What does he mean why?_

"Why? Do I need a reason?" she questioned callously, throwing him a heart stopping glare; the room had seemed to drop a few degrees as she looked him over without any remorse. She didn't know what the word meant, the very idea was unfathomable. The look on his increasingly pale face told her he couldn't understand her logic, of course he couldn't. He wasn't anything like her.

"Do you feel as though I should justify myself for what I'm doing, for what I'm going to do?" Amelia couldn't control the smile that spread across her full lips at the sight of his face draining of any hope that had been left. Being as curious as she was, Amelia picked up Franklin's wallet that had fallen to the linoleum floor, when she opened it up, a picture met her eyes. The photo was of Franklin, and who Amelia assumed must have been his children; a girl of nearly seven that had long blond hair pulled back in a french braid, red rosy cheeks and large brown eyes, and a boy that she guessed was twelve who had horn rimmed glasses and reddish blond hair.

"They're cute." Amelia chuckled at the idea of the 'poor little children' finding out their father had been brutally murdered in a dingy abandoned building. "Pity when they find out daddy isn't coming home." she watched guilt free as Franklin caved into a crying mess once again, muttering some type of prayer under his breath. Amelia tilted his head up with the tip of her blade, she noticed immediately that his eyes were beginning to glaze over, his death rapidly approaching him.

_Do it already, he's not that fun anymore, he's giving up. _

"Well, Frankie, I gotta tell ya. I'm becoming quite bored with you, and I don't particularly do well when I'm bored. So doll," she cooed, carving an 'A' into his cheek as she did so, "This is goodbye."

Without so much as a bat of her thick black lashes, she shoved the knife straight through his heart, giving it a rough twist as she did so.

Amelia watched with heightened anticipation and longing as Franklin began gurgling up blood, his face screwed up in pain, she felt her toes curl in her heels as she watched the blood trickle from his bruised mouth. With great effort she pulled the knife out of his chest, resting it at her side as her free hand grabbed a fistful of his hair, glaring into his eyes that were slowly starting to fade of life. Franklin's gurgling ceased within seconds, his eyes widened a fraction before she saw what she had been wanting, needing, to see the whole night. It was as if she could see his very soul exiting his body as the life flickered and finally faded out of his now dull brown eyes, his face and body slackened in the chair he was restrained to, blood still slowly dripped down his lifeless body.

Amelia felt the familiar rushing high that she always got after she had killed, this euphoric sensation that nearly drove her over the ledge, sending pulsating quakes of tingling warmth all over her body. No trace of remorse, guilt, or fear in sight. She gave a great sigh of satisfaction at her latest piece of work, she briefly glanced over the corpse of Franklin, his feet and the feet of the chair soaking in a pool of his blood.

She slipped on her black gloves that she had stashed in the pocket of her dress, she also picked her coat off of the desk that was across the room, flipping her brown hair back as she tightened it around herself before she was to go out and embrace the biting winter breeze. Amelia gave her newest in the collection of her corpses a glance.

_Pitiful. Just pathetic._

Amelia kept her knife between her fingers as she walked the cold and desolate streets in The Narrows, twirling the blood stained instrument, with a smug smile, the whole way back to her apartment.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Violence in this chapter! Please review, other wise, I'm not quite sure if I'll even continue this. Thanks dolls:]**

Amelia sat on her couch with her legs curled underneath her bottom, twirling her steaming Ramen noodles with her fork, the hot bowl barely twinging her hand. It was early, very in early in the morning, five perhaps five thirty, she didn't know which, she always got up at about the same time. Her mind never stopped turning, she'd only slept three hours. Amelia aimlessly flew through each channel, searching for something to entertain her for a while, that was of course difficult what with all the channels running info-mertials or badly made for TV movies. She stopped at one of the news channels, the caption "BREAKING NEWS" catching her attention, a smile crept across her lips as she took in the frightened look of the news anchor's face.

"I'm Mike Engel for Gotham News. Breaking News coming to you now, the search for Franklin Garner coming to a tragic halt,"

_It's about damn time._

"his body was late last night inside an abandoned work house in The Narrows, authorities saying. They were able to identify him through finger prints and his wallet, there are, sadly, no leads to who could've killed Franklin or why this tragedy had to occur. We're going to Karen Asher who's on the scene. Karen?"

Amelia couldn't control her laughter, "Tragedy!" she nearly choked on some noodles. She had been compulsively waiting up to see when they would find his body, it had taken them longer than she had predicted, nearly three weeks. The thought only made her laugh harder. Amelia set her bowl down on her tiny coffee table, simultaneously turning the volume on the TV up louder.

"Yes Mike, it's horrible what has occurred, inside this building here," the red headed woman gestured to the ratty old building behind her, the yellow caution table blowing behind her as well. "the body of Franklin Garner was found bound, beaten, and badly decayed. A medical examiner on the scene explained that Mr. Garner had been dead for roughly the same amount of time he had been missing."

"Do they think this murder has anything to do with The Joker and his recent escape from Arkham Asylum?" Amelia rolled her eyes at the question, The Joker was much more theatrical than she was. Had Joker killed Franklin, he would've made a video and sent it to the family.

_That's not such a bad idea..._

"No Mike, authorities believe that The Joker, actually had nothing to do with this murder. We've learned exclusively that on Mr. Garner's face, a capitalized 'a' was carved onto his cheek."

At that, a surge of excitement ran through Amelia's body, the corners of her mouth tugging into a smile. She knew that the police down in GPD would soon put two and two together and realize they had another serial killer on their hands. They would easily recognize the similarities between her several other unsolved murders and dear Franklins murder.

"Such tragic news. Have authorities spoken with the family of Mr. Garner?" asked Mike with a sad yet bored expression.

"Yes, his wife and two children were called down to speak with Commissioner Gordon about finding Mr. Garner late last night. The family is said to be absolutely devastated by the loss, our thoughts are with the Garner family tonight." the attractive newswoman concluded.

Amelia couldn't help but roll her eyes, the way people threw their 'sympathy' around amazed her. How everyone acted as if they actually cared, perhaps they actually did care; she didn't know, or care. To her, any emotion whatsoever was altogether strange, it was like trying to have a conversation with someone who spoke a foreign language, she couldn't comprehend it. To Amelia, those who could care, have guilt, remorse, love, were weak and far beneath her. They were just objects, objects which she would use and abuse to amuse herself with, and dispose of when she was done with them.

- - - - - - - - - -

Amelia looked out of her small window, out into the darkening city of Gotham. The navy sky was beginning to blanket the skyscrapers of Gotham with its welcoming darkness, each criminal crawling out from under their rocks to embrace the freedom that comes with the night. Amelia was no different, in that aspect at least. She had slipped on her usual black dress and heels, making sure she looked her best, as usual. She was very self centered, and would be the first to admit it.

She needed a bit of stimulation that night, she never was very good at being a homebody. Perhaps, she should find someone to keep her busy for a few hours. Something, anything.

_I'll just figure it out as I go. _

Of course she would, she never thought out much of anything. Nothing was planned, everything was about impulses, rather it ended up being beneficial for her or not. Amelia grabbed her black coat and tightened it around herself, cradling her purse, filled with goodies, in her arms.

She slipped her keys into her pocket after she shut her apartment door, her heels thumping on the carpeted hallway floor. The sound reminded her of an unsteady heartbeat. She knew then that she needed her killing fix, or perhaps an actual sexual she waited for the elevator to open up for her, she felt a pair of eyes on her, scanning her over. Amelia pealed her eyes at the man standing in front of his door, fumbling for his keys. His brown eyes were looking her up and down with a hungry penetration, like any man when they saw an attractive woman. She deemed him relatively attractive, with his dark skin and eyes, and a tall well built body.

_He could come in useful. _

She curled her full lips into a playful smile, giving him an obvious once over, he responded by inclining his head to her before disappearing behind his door. About that time, the elevator popped open, revealing an empty lift. She stepped inside, pressed the number one, and waited impatiently for the lift to take her down. An image of the attractive man she'd seen flashed in her head, her head began to swarm with ideas. She could do with a good fuck, depending on how good he was in bed, she would perhaps let him live for a while. But eventually, of course, he would have to go.

The electric doors spread open, revealing the bare lobby, not one person in sight.

_Not surprising, given this places appearance._

The night air embraced her as soon as she pulled open the door, and set her stiletto covered feet outside. She began walking down the sidewalk, to no place in particular, she would know when she saw it or thought of it. Amelia wrapped her arms around herself, a small shiver passing through her, typically, the cold never bothered her or affected her; that night was different. Not to many people had passed her that night, the occasional drunk or addict would wobble by, but not as many as usually did. Perhaps, that was due to the Batman's presence, or to his enemy, The Joker's recent breakout from Arkham. She didn't have the slightest interest in either of them, sure, both of them were entertaining; nothing more, nothing less.

As Amelia made her way around the corner of seventy fifth street, a group of men huddling into a bar, The Red Fox, caught her eye. Amelia clutched her bag, knife inside, tight against her side, the excitement of finding her newest victim taking hold of her. She skipped across the street, stepping over a passed out drunk on the side walk, swinging open the door to the bar. The red lighted bar inviting her over for a much needed drink. She glanced around herself, reveling in the looks that seemed to be drifting her way.

_Perfect._

"What can I get you?" the bartender ask her, wiping down the counter before her. Amelia looked over the selection of alcohol, deciding it best to get something to warm her up.

"Jack and Coke."

The bartender quickly mixed up the drink for her, a grin passing his lips as he slid her the drink. Amelia didn't smile back, she merely sipped her drink, her eyes roaming over the many patrons in the bar. She kept her eyes pealed for the group of five, or so, men. Before she put her drink down she caught the glimpse of the five sitting on the opposite side of the bar, all downing a shot.

_Absolutely perfect. _

Once they each set down their empty shot glasses, with a grimace from the burning alcohol, she looked over each face. Picking her victim. She knew the moment she saw his thin face and messy mop of black hair, he was the one. He was cute, not handsome or pretty, just cute. He was thin and pale, his dark blue eyes and boyish grin gave away his young age. He had to be younger than her, perhaps twenty two or so. An involuntary grin spread across her face, a jolt of excitement fired the engine of the killing machine inside herself. She gave the young man a come hither grin, her drink still in hand. The young man remained in his seat, a dazed expression imprinted on his face, the four men surrounding him egging him on with yells and pats on the back.

_That's it boys._

With a little encouragement, the young man made his way over to her, awkwardly shoving his hands into his pockets. Amelia inwardly purred at his shy, vulnerable, attitude.

"You gonna sit down of stand there and stare at me." she asked coyly, offering the stool next to her.

He laughed nervously, exposing his rather crooked teeth to her, he looked around anxiously, tapping his foot against the bars on the stool. Amelia could feel the nerves radiating off of him, she rested her arm on his forearm. "Nothing to be nervous of, sweetheart. Not going to bite you." she grinned as warmly as she could, turning on her charm.

"Sorry, just," he paused, taking in a deep breath, "Sorry, I didn't give my name. Cameron Bass, and you're.."

_Cameron, hmm. Cute._

"Amelia Jane." she introduced, flashing him a smile.

For the next hour, Amelia sat through Cameron's life story, trying her best to look entertained and enthused when she was anything but. Her fuse was growing short and she didn't know how much longer she could go on listening to him blathering away. As she watched him talk, ideas of cutting out his tongue or cutting his jaw off passed through her head. He was beginning to bore her, she didn't like to be bored. Not at all.

"Listen, Cam," she cooed, "how about we continue this conversation at my apartment?" she invited, snickering to herself as he practically glowed at the invitation.

"Yeah, yeah, let's go." he hurriedly said, dropping a fifty dollar bill on the counter, picking up his own bag. "Hey, I'm goin with her." he called to the guys that he came with, the men he worked with, he explained.

The four men cheered obnoxiously loud, two raising their glasses to him in pride. "Just make sure you ain't late kid, you know how boss is." Amelia observed the way Cameron quickly inhaled a breath, a tell tale sign he had a fear of what the man had just said to him.

She slipped her coat back on, keeping her bag close to her side as she did so, her fingers dancing on the tip of the blade. She grinned kindly as Cameron held open the door for her, allowing him to slip a hand around his waist. An idea to cut each of his fingers off, knuckle by knuckle, came to mind.

Amelia clutched the knife in her purse as she turned to Cameron, a dangerous, malevolent glint in her eyes. "You know, I don't think I can wait to get home." she purred against his mouth as she began to pull him down a dark alleyway. Cameron, of course, followed like a good puppy dog, his eyes hopeful and timid as she pushed him up against the brick wall. His breath wreaked of tequila, it stung her sensitive nostrils as she leaned in and distracted him with her lips. She took the opportunity of his eyes being closed to remove her knife from her purse and stab him in the side of his neck; blood spraying her cheek as she yanked the knife out. His eyes immediately flew open, the shock and pain flickering in his blue eyes.

Her glass like gray eyes searched over his bleeding wound, the muscles in his neck visible from the impact of the jagged edges of her knife. Amelia backed away from him, letting him fall to the ground in his agony, his mouth agape and mute.

"Let the fun begin." she grinned deviously down at him, dragging him by the hair further down the alleyway.

- - - - - - - - - -

Amelia lit her cigarette, inhaling the first bit of smoke deeply, exhaling through her nose. It had been at least an hour since she had first stabbed Cameron. She looked around the two of them, his bag catching her attention, for some odd reason. Amelia picked up the bag and turned it upside down, shaking all the contents beside and on top of him. Something large and white made her look twice at it, it looked like the back of a mask. When she turned it over, sure enough, it was a mask; a clown mask in fact.

_Well, that's strange._

She looked down at him through bored eyes, keeping the cigarette firmly between her teeth as she gave him a sharp kick in the ribs, "Wake up, doll. Don't go dying on me yet. I'm not done with you." a low chuckle vibrated in the back of her mouth. His pleading for his life becoming increasingly quieter, more weak and slurred as she continued her with her toying. Not to mention, half his tongue being cut out didn't help his speech.

"Well where the hell is he?" a man yelled angrily from the opposite side of the street, catching Amelia's attention.

"I dunno, boss. He just left with some chick about an hour ago. Some brunette." another man spoke shakily.

Amelia looked down at the dying Cameron, raising her brows as she saw him listening to the conversation, "Is that your boss, Cammy?" she asked in a hushed voice. Cameron merely responded by nodding. She muttered a number of swear words under her breath, she would have to cut this time short. She took another hit from her cigarette, still listening to the angry conversation taking place across the street.

"What kind of woman would want to take that kid home?" the first man yelled angrily, more at himself than anyone in particular.

Amelia gave Cameron a sideways look, tilting his chin up with the blade of her knife, glancing down at her cigarette, she smiled in the worst way possible. She straddled the baby faced twenty two year old and pressed the lit end against his cheek, muffling his yelping with her hand. The distinct smell of burning flesh stung her nose, she wrinkled in response, but reveled in the cries of pain Cameron was making for her. She watched as his pale skin turned a violent shade of red each time she removed the cigarette from his cheek. She continued to mark his face with her initial, the capitalized A, holding down his struggling body as best as she could.

Amelia finished her signature quite quickly, considering Cameron's struggling nearly threw her off of him. She took a moment to admire her handy work, running her finger over the raised, bubbling, flesh. As the footsteps of the first man neared closer to the alley, no doubt a bit curious over who had been screaming, Amelia pulled her knife off of the ground and held it up to Cameron's throat, "It was nice meeting you, doll. But I'm afraid I have to bid you adieu." she whispered before quickly slashing his throat, jumping off his lap in order to avoid the blood that flowed from his gaping throat. For a brief moment, she was mesmerized by the violent red hue, watching as it trickled down his chest and legs.

She was quickly pulled out of her stare by the sound of someone humming an unknown tune to themselves; she assumed it was the first man. Amelia stuffed her knife in her bag, still keeping her grip on the handle of it. She trotted contently away from the corpse of Cameron, not looking back, only forward. As she turned to the right, preparing to head home, the sight of whom she assumed to be Cameron's boss caught her eye. She had to bite her lip to cease the giggles that threatened to pour from her lips, "Oh, are you Cameron's boss?" she asked, already knowing the answer to the question. When she turned to meet him, she was a bit surprised at what met her sight. Suddenly the clown mask she had found in his bag made perfect sense.

The man with the purple suit, purple pin striped pants, face paint, and permanent smile glared at her. The Joker looked her over, as she did to him, taking note of the knife in his hands. She absentmindedly tightened her grip on her own weapon. She watched as he ran his tongue across his lips before speaking, "Yes, _beautiful_, I am. And you must be the brunette he wandered off with."

Amelia smiled at him, "He's just back there if you want to see him. Although, I should tell you, you may want to begin looking for a replacement." she chuckled inside herself before she turned around and began to walk off. Normal people would have been frightened out of their pants at the sight of The Joker, but of course, she was not phased by it. Just like everything else she'd ever encountered.

"Where do you think you're going off to, beautiful?" he called behind her, tightening his purple gloved grip around his knife. Amelia took the opportunity to brandish her own, much larger, knife; the red tint glimmering on the jagged edges. This seemed to catch The Joker's attention, his brows raised in amusement at the sight of it.

"I suggest getting him out of the alley, it'll be wreaking down here by morning."

Amelia gave him a curt nod to the alley she had just walking out of before carrying on her way. She listened with strange enthusiasm as The Joker's footsteps carried down the alley. A proud smirk crossed across her face as she heard the footsteps stop. Amelia took one last drag of her cigarette before dropping it on the ground, crushing the flame with her heel and walking off to her home.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Well, I wrote this before and after Halloween Horror Nights last night, I can't even describe how much fun it was! I don't think I've ever screamed so loud in my whole life! Anyways, please read and REVIEW, but most importantly enjoy!**

"Ms. Jane! Ms. Amelia Jane! This is the Gotham City Police! Open your door, or we will be forced to open it for you!"

Those words brutally awakened Amelia, her eyes opening in tired slits, and a grimace on her face as she tossed the covers off of her scantly clad self. She knew if the police were at her door, she was more than likely being arrested. The routine was all to familiar. Amelia stomped out of her bedroom, unlatched the lock on her door, and flung it open, a jovial smile spread across her full pout despite her tiredness.

"Well hello gentlemen. For what do I owe you company?" asked Amelia, her gray eyes brightened at the sight of Commissioner Gordon. "Gordon! Oh it must be important if you're here." she giggled shifting her weight onto one foot, the other hooking behind the others ankle.

"Save it Jane. You're the suspect in the murder of Cameron Bass." said Gordon authoritatively, swinging a pair of handcuffs around two of his fingers.

"He was murdered a few nights ago, correct?" a distant smile crept over her face, she perked her brows just a fraction, taking in Gordon's seemingly stern reaction.

"Yes. A witness puts you at the scene, said the victim was last seen leaving a bar with you." Amelia glared at the Commissioner, her ever playful smile had no where to be found, her face agitated and stoic. Questions swirled around in her head, who could've identified her so well as to convince the police that it was her?

"This witness, what exactly did he say?" questioned Amelia, her eyes peeled at Gordon, examining him and any micro expressions that he might do.

"Don't believe I said it was a man, did I?" asked Gordon, his attempt at slipping her up. She inwardly rolled her eyes at his not only ill thought out but ridiculous attempt at tricking her.

"So you're saying it's a woman then?" quipped Amelia faster than Gordon had time to smirk triumphantly, his aged features hardened in anger.

"Just put your hands behind your back, Jane. You should know the drill by now."

"Now, commish, you're married. I don't think Barbra would like it at all if you spoke to me in such an obvious sexual man-" her cut her off by slamming her, face first, into the wall on her right, her wrists being ripped around to her lower back. Her face stung from the sudden impact, she had the sudden urge to club Commission Gordon to death with her bare hands, but thought better of it and simply gritted her teeth in anger and pain.

"Think I should call my lawyer?" Amelia playfully questioned as Gordon hauled her out of her apartment, his grip tight on her cuffed wrists.

"If you can find one stupid enough to defend you."

- - - - - - - - - -

Gordon and one of his younger officers, Burns, tugged Amelia, still in her barely there sleepwear, through the station, each had one hand gripped on each of Amelia's arms. Amelia knew the drill, how Gordon would play all hard ball with her, trying to get her to crack. He just didn't get it, Amelia Jane never cracked. She watched, hands still cuffed of course, all of the other arrested stare at her as she past. Amelia knew it must've been rare for them to see a beautiful woman walk through the dirty and infested walls of the MCU. The cuffs on her wrists were becoming increasingly more painful, typically she liked it to hurt, but the cuffs, Gordon and his shaking puppy dog of a rookie, and the smell around her were beginning to annoy her.

Amelia smiled despite her annoyance as she watched Gordon pull the door open the nearest interrogation room, she was almost positive she had been in that exact room once or twice before. Memories of Gordon's ever so feeble attempts of slipping her up, watching Gordon and whomever he brought with him become frustrated, leave, taunt her with coffee. The cycle was to begin again the minute she sat in the chair they propped her into.

"How about some coffee?" Gordon's rookie asked Amelia politely, she flashed her rows of teeth despite her better efforts of hiding her amusement.

_Apparently Gordon hasn't told him about my history here, has he? Either that or he thinks being nice will make me comply. Poor kid. _

Gordon walked behind Amelia, unlocked the teeth of the handcuffs."Well, coffee sounds fantastic!" said Amelia enthusiastically, crossing her arms on the table, her arms were beginning to feel cold, the coffee would warm her up. Amelia eyed up the young officer, Burns, her mind began to play scenarios where she would run into him in a bar, like she did with Cameron, and take him to a back lot and introduce him to her knife. He was less attractive than Cameron was, given his teeth were more straight, he was more soft in the middle than Cameron, and he had a buzz cut with no facial hair, only emphasizing his undefined features. She saw, out of her peripheral vision, Gordon roll his eyes at her and the affect she had over his young officer, Burns was practically glowing at the attention he was receiving from her, if only he knew what Amelia's attention meant and just how foul her intentions were. Gordon patted the officer on the back, signaling for him to leave, Burns didn't question him, he merely obeyed with nothing more than a smile to Amelia, one which she mirrored, innocently mocking him.

"Stop it, Amelia." said Gordon sternly, his eyes narrowed at her in a way Amelia imagined a father would while lecturing his children. Amelia pulled her shoulders up, moving them back in forth as she tapped her shoe covered feet on the floor.

"Stop what?" laughed Amelia, knowing the answer to the question, Gordon was always protective of his fellow officers, "You know I gotta get my fun where I can." drawled Amelia. It was so easy for her to get under his skin, she knew it, his posture gave him away, his facial expressions; the exact way his eyes were narrowed at her just then, his hands planted on the table, shoulder length apart, his shoulders hunched.

"Is murder what you would call fun?" a corner of Amelia's mouth pulled into her cheek, a few teeth exposed. She saw from a mile away where he was going with this, the hard exterior, 'no nonsense' questioning, isolating her from all the noisy arrestees. "Was murdering Cameron Bass fun, Amelia?" she had to fight herself for control, the answer, a cocky "Why yes was!" was waiting to come flying out, yet she kept composed, "I have no idea who you're talking about, Gordon." she answered coolly. Amelia could see that Gordon wanted to hit her, to just knock her on her ass, his nostrils were flaring and his jaw was clenched.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Jane." Amelia tutted loudly, flipping her tangled brown hair over her shoulder, leaning in closer to Gordon.

"That's no way to talk to a lady."

"As far as I know, I'm not speaking to one." Amelia dramatically slammed her hand over her heart, her mouth agape.

"That hurt, Gordon. I happen to consider myself quite the lady."

"A lady wouldn't mutilate an innocent man this way. Huh! Would she!" yelled Gordon, throwing two crime scene photos down on the table, directly in front of her. Amelia picked the photo up, examining the body of Cameron Bass, his shirt was soaked in blood, the muscles in his neck were clearly visible, and the distinct A burnt onto his cheek. She inhaled deeply, running her fingers over Cameron's boiled cheek, "Who could do such a thing." she whispered behind the picture, a smile crept up her full lips, she was in admiration of her work, his body the exact way she left it, a sense of what she assumed was something like gratitude swept through her; she didn't want the body to be disturbed until their were photos. Like an idiot, Gordon would always show her the crime scene photos, and she could tell if anything had been disturbed. The photograph was abruptly ripped out of her hands, her eyes meeting the weathered and very red face of Commissioner Gordon, his hands were shaking his was so angry.

For the past two years, he had been trying to pin several murders on her, never having a shred of evidence on her. Each time he brought her in, attempted to 'grill her', as the officers so eloquently put it, she was out within hours, never scared or affected, the same as when she had entered. Untouched and unmoved.

"You're saying it wasn't you? Correct?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying." said Amelia, flicking underneath her fingernails, growing bored with his routine.

"Where were you last night?" asked Gordon. Amelia didn't look up, didn't shift in her seat.

"I went out for a bit, then came home." she answered honestly, skipping over the convicted detail.

"Out where?" asked Gordon. Amelia looked up, drumming her fingernails on the table.

"Out. I can't remember where, just out."

Before Gordon burst into flames in his seat, the door opened, Burns standing in the doorway with a pleased look on his face, he didn't smile at Amelia this time. Amelia watched carefully as the two men talked in hushed tones, Gordon's cheeks widening with a weathered smile.

"That's excellent! Excellent!" exclaimed Gordon. Amelia remained unmoved, continuing to click her fingers on the table, knowing the news Gordon just received could only be bad for her. For the first time that morning, Gordon pulled the chair back and took a seat, mimicking her motions; crossed arms resting on the table.

"Detectives searched your apartment." Amelia titled her head to the side, her eyes falling over the wrinkles underneath Gordon's eyes, her full attention still on his voice.

"You better hope you had a warrant, or everything you saw is inadmissible in court. You should know better, especially after last time." a smile parted her lips, yet her eyes remained focused and untouched by the grin.

"We had a warrant, Amelia. My detectives found Cameron Bass' blood on your clothing, on your floor, and on that knife of yours."

Amelia and Gordon's eyes met, her glass like stare penetrated his dark brown, his words meant nothing, no matter of evidence would keep her in a cell, like an animal. His words, that would've had most sobbing at his feet for mercy, didn't linger too long in Amelia's head. It didn't matter, people would know she was a murderer, she'd have to go to trial; her face remained still and calm, her body was relaxed and her attitude no better than it had been when she came in. Untouchable.

Gordon rose from his seat, swinging the handcuffs around his fingers. "Amelia Jane. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, if one will defend you." growled Gordon gripping Amelia by her forearm, ripping her wrists around to her back. Amelia began giggling at the thought of finally begin arrested, she was surprised it took them as long as it did to actually find a scrap of evidence. Gordon hauled Amelia out of the interrogation room, his grip tight on her arms as pushed her into the main lobby of the station, practically throwing her into a chair.

Amelia laughed harder as Gordon and her came face to face, "There something funny, Amelia?"

Amelia threw her head back, exposing her neck, "You-ha-you," she cleared her throat, "Oh okay, you think you've accomplished something, Commish? You think you've won something? Please. I'll be out in a week." Gordon crossed his arms triumphantly over his chest, a proud smirk on his face; Amelia thought back to her trusted knife as she looked over Gordon's thin lips.

"I don't think you'll be laughing when we get to Arkham Asylum." Amelia wanted to laugh in his face, what did he think? Arkham was some type of impenetrable force that she could only enter but not break out of? He's ignorance was blinding to her.

"Commissioner! You're bus to Arkham is here." a young Hispanic female officer called. Gordon nodded to her, and then called to Burns.

"Bring _him_ out." Burns nodded, a weary look on his face as he turned to go fetch whomever Gordon asked him to fetch.

_Oh great, now I have to take that thirty minute ride to Arkham with a crazy. _

Gordon pulled Amelia to her feet by her forearm again, pulling her out into the cold mid-afternoon air, a white van reading **ARKHAM ASYLUM** in bold black on the door. Amelia shivered as they waited for the other inmate to be brought out, her teeth chattered together, her exposed legs on fire with goosebumps.

"Got him, Commissioner." Amelia turned around to see young officer Burns pushing The Joker down the steps, Burn's face twisted in the cold; whether in fear or just a reaction of the cold, Amelia couldn't quite tell. The Joker looked the same as he had been when she had ran into him several nights ago, his face still painted in the messy and unattractive black, red, and white; his purple suit blowing in a gust of wind that made Amelia shout "Fuck!"

The Joker and Amelia's eyes locked, a grin parting his painted, scarred, lips, exposing his straight but yellow teeth. Amelia didn't smile, she merely looked him up and down and chuckled at his appearance before Gordon practically shoved her into the van, The Joker slid in next to her, Amelia glared at him as she felt his thigh up against hers.

"Don't take your eyes off of these two." said Gordon, giving both The Joker and Amelia a fiery glare. Just before the door shut, Amelia stopped him, a malevolent smile on her full lips.

"Oh Commish? You remember when you asked if I enjoyed it? If I thought it was fun?" Amelia paused as she saw Gordon freeze up, his lips pursed in anger. "To answer your question, yes, I enjoyed it, quite thoroughly." Amelia rested her head back up against the seat, the smell of burnt rubber stinging her nose, a smile on her face as she heard the door slam loudly. Amelia relaxed against the seat, adjusting her cuffed hands as she did so, her lips cheeks still pulled into a smile even as the driver of the van began driving away from the station.

She could feel The Joker's eyes on her face, moving over her lips, her cheeks, her eyes, his eye dipping down to her neck, shoulders, her breasts and legs. Amelia rolled her eyes, "Is there something you need?" asked Amelia in an irritated voice, turning to face him, she peeled her eyes at him as she realized how close he was to her; more than likely he could smell her scent of gardenias and honey.

"No, nothing I _need_. _Want_, now that's a differe**nt** st_or_y." said The Joker, his tongue darted across his lips. Amelia's eyes narrowed, her blue and his brown orbs lighting the other on fire. "I've never seen a woman do what you did." he said, Amelia assumed he was referring to Cameron's murder.

"I've never seen someone who walks around as a fucking clown." chuckled Amelia, giving his costume a look over before diverting her gaze out of the window. She could feel his angered stare digging into her skin like the lit end of a cigarette.

_This might be fun._


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: There may be some sensitive subject matter ahead, then again, if you've stuck with this story to chapter four, you should be used the that by now. Oh, and by the way, I have a bit of sad information, my mom has the swine flu. She's okay and everything, but I'm a bit worried, can't really help it. So if you all could just keep her in mind and wish her well, it'd be greatly appreciated. Hope everyone is doing all right as well. Anyways, drop a line. Read and Review, lovelies. Thanks again!**

Amelia kept her attention on the moving scenery outside, watching as the naked trees whizzed by, bundles of leaves gathered beneath the trees, running along the side of the van as it rounded the corner to Arkham Asylum. It stood five stories high, a large dark brick building, all of the windows barred. As the driver pulled up to the main entrance, two people, a man and a woman, stood on the front steps, both wearing pure white lab coats. Amelia eyed up both people, the woman, an attractive, petite, blond, her face flushed from the cold. The man looked stoic and untouched by the cold, his slick brown hair didn't move or sway as the wind picked up, as he opened the door for Amelia, he pushed his glasses up his nose. Amelia felt the cold dig into her skin like millions of tine thumb nails, her messy hair flew up and away from her face. The driver of the car pulled Amelia, more gently than she expected, out of the van and had her face the pretty blond.

"Hi Amelia. I'm Harleen Quinzel, I'll be your therapist for your time here at Arkham." said Harleen giving Amelia a gentle smile, Amelia cocked her brows, unimpressed by her introduction. Amelia could hear The Joker chuckling at her. Harleen shuffled with the handful of papers in her grasp, "Um, I'll be doing some simple evaluations of you do, is that all right?" asked Harleen with a hopeful smile.

"It doesn't exactly matter if I think it's all right or not, does it? You have to do it anyway." said Amelia dryly, perhaps is was the cold that was putting her in an even more foul mood, but she had no patience or drop of false kindness to extend to the young woman before her. Harleen shifted on her feet, her expression going blank for a moment, as if trying to gingerly change the subject.

"Well, um, let's get you out of the cold, shall we?" suggested Harleen with a touch of enthusiasm. Both The Joker and Amelia exchanged looks to one another, the whole absurdity of it all. Both of them knew they would, of course, be separated, evaluated by one of the shrinks, 'diagnosed', and then locked in a cell until they were to be feed. Amelia chuckled as she followed Harleen and the other shrink up the steps into the asylum. Harleen held open the door for the both of them, Amelia scoffed loudly as she saw Harleen blush as The Joker passed her.

"Why don't you take their hand cuffs off? I'm sure they're bothersome." asked Harleen kindly, the man that had pulled Amelia out of the van undid her cuffs, she immediately wrenched her hands around to her front and began to rub her sore wrists. Once The Joker's cuffs were off, he mimicked her motions and rubbed his own wrists. Harleen led Amelia, The Joker, and the second therapist into the elevator straight in front of them, the bright white of the walls made Amelia blink profusely, her eyes not adjusted to such brightness. She rested her head on the wall and waited for the doors to close, the sound of Harleen tapping her foot keeping her awake. Her eyes didn't stay shut for long, as she could feel The Joker's stare prodding her to look at him.

"What?" she whispered as her eyes popped open the meet his curious brown stare. He chuckled at her almost hostile response.

"Not gonna cut my throat if I tell you, are ya?" he laughed. Without thinking, Amelia laughed softly behind her full lips, relaxing her head back on the wall, the elevator door closed.

"When I told you I'd never seen a woman do what you did, it was a compliment. I'm quite impressed, _Amelia_. Most women, well, **most** people don't have the stomach to do what you di**d**."

"Done." corrected Amelia with a sideways glance, she was only a few inches shorter than he.

"Excuse me?" asked The Joker.

"What I've done. Not what I did." This brought a well known smile over The Joker's face.

"So there've been more?" The Joker asked again, this time leaning his head up against the wall, next to hers. About that time, the elevator door rung open, all four began to file out.

Amelia looked over her shoulder at him and smiled, "There's _always_ more." If anything, her cockiness would be her downfall. The Joker laughed behind her, his trademark smile parted his scarred lips.

"Now, Ms. Jane, if you can follow me, please." cooed Harleen, giving Amelia a wide smile. Both The Joker and Amelia, once again, exchanged knowing looks and parted ways, Amelia following Harleen. Amelia looked around her at the virginal white walls and doors, the tile a pale yellow, several cracks in each square. Harleen led her past a large room filled with four to five patients, all wearing the same orange jumpsuit that Amelia would be wearing soon enough. She clicked her tongue at the idea of looking like the rest of them, blending in. Never one of her strong suits. Harleen held open the door for Amelia, the room a shade pale yellow, one window near the left corner of the room, bars on either side of the window; the taunting image of the outside world separated by the iron and glass. Amelia took the seat closest to the window, the light that poured in tingled her tan skin, made the color of her eyes look a near transparent blue, she knew how she looked in that lighting, even without her makeup; intimidating; beautiful. She positioned herself so that one side of her body was facing the window, the other facing Harleen, who was looking over Amelia with a curious gaze; Amelia thrived in it.

"Would you like one?" asked Harleen. Amelia cocked her head to faced Harleen, she noticed the pack of cigarettes she was offering, Amelia gladly took the pack and lighter. She clasped her hand close to the end of the cigarette as she lit it, taking in a deep smoke filled breath before setting the lighter down.

"Tell me a little about yourself Amelia."implored Harleen, leaning herself back in her seat, pen and a pad of paper resting on her thigh. Amelia peeled her eyes at Harleen, releasing the smoke out of her nose.

"You have my file, doll. You should know, _a little_, about me." said Amelia, perking her brows at Harleen, who's eyes fell to the file to the file in front of her. Harleen picked it up and ran through it, apparently she had not done so before, Amelia noticed Harleen's eyes widen at the several sheets of paper. They always did that. Amelia's history was like many other former foster children's.

"My, Amelia. It seems here, you've been through quite a bit." cooed Harleen, Amelia had to take another drag of her cigarette to keep from laughing. Her sympathy, the look Amelia knew she had in her eyes; no one could be sympathetic about something they have no concept of. Amelia tipped the excess ash on her cigarette into the ash tray, her eyes stayed fixed on the pale yellow walls. "Ten foster homes, two group homes. That's a lot for a person to deal with, I couldn't begin to imagine how that must have been for you." Again, Amelia had to take a long drag from her cigarette at Harleen's sympathy, at least she could admit how bad it was for Amelia. Amelia's childhood had, no doubt, molded her into what she was, so she couldn't have that grudge against all of the foster families she went to, they made her what she was; in a sense, she was grateful.

"How old were you when you're father left?" asked Harleen.

Amelia's expression didn't waver, didn't falter. Still and unmoved. "I believe four months old. I could be wrong." Amelia answered honestly. She cut her eyes over to Harleen before tipping her cigarette ashes in the ash tray.

"And you were, um, it says you were seven when your mother gave you up for adoption. That must have hurt." assumed Harleen.

"I'm sure it did. I was seven, but I moved on." said Amelia, running her fingers through the ends of her long hair.

"Do you know why she gave you up?" asked Harleen, moving her pad of paper up to her knee. Amelia vividly recalled the night her mother gave her up to Children Services.

"Her boyfriend kept sneaking into my room at night, I remember when I told her what he was doing." she laughed bitterly as she remembered her mother's reaction. "She blamed me, told me I was seducing him. She didn't want anything to do with me, gave me up and never looked back." said Amelia casually. She took one last drag of her cigarette before grinding it into the ash tray. When Amelia looked up at Harleen, her reaction was just as Amelia thought it would be. Her mouth was slightly a gape, her brows creased in at the middle, her light blue eyes sad. The woman was too easy.

"I'm terribly sorry, Amelia." apologized Harleen. Amelia laughed.

"How can you be sorry for something you don't have the first clue about?" questioned Amelia in the softest voice she could muster at that time. Harleen fidgeted in her seat, she rubbed her lips together.

"I can be sorry for something awful that happened to you. I don't have to have been through it to be sorry, but I understand what you mean, Amelia."

"Oh you do, do you? Then what do I mean, Harleen?" purred Amelia, changing her position in order to face Harleen, her elbows rested on the mahogany table between the two women. Amelia's strong gaze liquified Harleen's timid stare, she knew Harleen had no answer for her.

"Let's start at the beginning, shall we?" said Harleen, shifting the subject back onto Amelia and her past. "You were born January seventeenth in 1982. That makes you nearly twenty eight. And you're from-"

"Los Angeles, California." finished Amelia, studying Harleen's features as she read over her information. Harleen's pale brows were raised at her information.

"There's only your mother's name on the birth certificate." Harleen said puzzled, Amelia assumed she must have come from a family where both mother and father gladly sign the birth certificate. "Tamara Jane. She was nineteen when she had you." Amelia nodded, this was information she already knew.

"Were you and your mother close?" asked Harleen. Amelia bit the inside of her mouth as she thought it over. The obvious 'no' came to mind, but Amelia wanted to con Harleen, get Harleen on her side. Amelia lowered her eyes to the table, trying to get the look just right before she looked up with false sadness swimming in her eyes, sadness that she knew Harleen would dive right into, falling into her trap perfectly.

"No, we weren't. She was always out, with her many boyfriends, she never really wanted to be around me." Amelia said it so convincingly that she had to fight hard to suppress the urge to laugh.

"When your mother gave you up, you went to live with Mr. and Mrs. White. You were transferred to another home three months later, why?" asked Harleen, pulling her bottom lip in between her teeth. Amelia's eyes floated up to the ceiling, she hadn't thought of the White's in years, but the moment she did, her jaw clenched.

_Come on, play up the water works. Little Harleen will buy right into it._

"They had several kids, maybe seven or eight. All the kids were older than me and would beat me up, pull my hair. The oldest, Sam, he was thirteen," Amelia paused to look at Harleen, her glass like eyes forming with forced tears, "he would always hit me, kick me, call me names. He'd always do it in front of the parents, no one said a thing. They laughed, and the man would burn me with cigarettes."

The strange sensation of a tear dripping from her eye caught Amelia by surprise. She couldn't remember the last time she had made herself cry. On the inside, Amelia was roaring with laughter at how well her web was being woven, her fly getting wrapped gracefully between the strands. Of course the story she was telling was a lie. Yes, the White's had several children, but none of them bothered her, rather, she was the one doing the tormenting. The foster father, Jeremy White, never burned her with cigarettes, he only burned her with his gaze. He would always stare at her, watch her from a far, but never once did he touch her, but the looks were enough for his wife to send Amelia packing.

"What happened after you left, Amelia?" asked Harleen after she had jotted down a few lines on her yellow pad of paper. Amelia sighed, more irritably than she had wanted. She didn't want to go through each foster home, what happened in each one. Her secrets were what made her what she was, if she shared them, she was just damaging herself further. If she shared all of her secrets with anyone, especially with a therapist, she was just becoming their project, something to study and examine; like a slide underneath the high intensity glare of a microscope. She refused to give in and play by their rules, giving in and spilling her insides, she refused to let Harleen rummage through and rape her past.

"I went to live with Camilla and Eric West." said Amelia, recalling the image of Camilla; her red hair laid perfectly flat and straight a top her prominent collarbones, her figure pubescent like, her eyes brown and always glazed over. Eric had sandy blond hair, prominent cheekbones and an off center nose, his lips were chapped from his persistent habit of licking them. Camilla acted the same age as Amelia had at that time, like a child, it was all a part of her act, that kind of girl sold big in the adult film industry. She seemed to never get out of character, always sexually explicit in front of Amelia. Amelia remembered how loud they were in bed, she never could sleep. Amelia explained to Harleen that at the age of twelve, Camilla insisted on Amelia wearing provocative clothing, always measuring her figure, especially her bust.

"They were preparing me to go into the porn industry at twelve. Eric would invite his friends over to see 'how pretty she's getting!'. His friends were other producers, like himself, child porn made a lot. They saw me as a perfect candidate as a new star. New money." Most of that was true, Amelia decided to skip over the detail of Eric getting fired shortly after she arrived, and how Camilla had gotten pregnant and was not working. The story she was making seemed more interesting, and would spark much more sympathy than anything. Amelia smirked at the idea, buying over the jury, just as she was buying Harleen into her scheme, they would all fall right in, they always did.

"It says here you left before your twelfth birthday. What happened?" implored Harleen. Amelia didn't expect that to be on her file, but she rolled with it, bowing her head in brief thought.

"The police came and got me before I was gonna do first film. Eric got caught on drug charges, so when the DEA came, they took me with them." Amelia teeter tottered on the beams of lie and truth. Harleen seemed satisfied by the answer Amelia had given.

"You went to several temporary homes after that, and then you went to live my Kerry and Steven Stone." she paused as she looked back down at the file gripped between her slim fingers."We don't have to talk about them if you don't want to." said Harleen with a small smile, Amelia smiled as she recalled the Stone's. If she told her what had happened when she was with them, she would have Harleen in a heap on the floor, overwhelmed by sadness.

"They were the eighth family I lived with. The minute I got there, they turned me out. Made me have my first trick at fourteen." recalled Amelia, she could still remember the taste of that man's lips on her's stale cigarettes and vodka, the sharp smell stung her nose even in the pale yellow room she sat in at the moment.

"That must have been terrible." said Harleen, Amelia picked up on the crack in her voice. She only had to push a little more, and the blond woman in front of her would be completely broken, her adamant feelings that Amelia was no sociopath, she was just a damaged young woman; Amelia's entire defense based on her horrible childhood, she'd be out in no time. Amelia knew she had to get Harleen to feel as though she had Amelia's trust, pouring so much 'information' into her had to mean something. Amelia knew dozens of people like Harleen, people that easy. No, not people to her. Objects, objects she could toy with and manipulate to do what she wanted them to do, and then dispose of them when they ceased to amuse her. All of their thinking was the same, if someone tells them so much information and cries, they must be telling the truth. When someone apologizes to them, they buy into it and believe that they are sincere. Objects like Harleen didn't get it, they don't get it. Objects like Harleen believe people like Amelia, the superior people, can be cured, and just products of broken homes and bad childhood. All curable with therapy.

_Like it's some kind of fucking magic. _

Nothing would ever cure Amelia, what was there to be cured of? She would ask herself. Be cured of her superiority over others? Her beauty? Her lack of guilt, shame, and other useless emotions that were only detrimental? She refused to play with the idea that she needed to be cured. The idea in itself was absurd and unworthy of her time. She was perfect the way she was and nothing was going to change that.

Harleen and Amelia had been talking for nearly two hours when Harleen asked Amelia, "Why did you kill Cameron Bass?"

Amelia lightly frowned, the blame wasn't entirely hers', it never was. "Self defense, he was killing me." said Amelia coldly, she quickly softened her expression at the sight of Harleen's taken aback expression, obviously suspicious of her sudden mood change from upset to stone cold. Just before Harleen was to ask another question, there was a loud knock on the door before it swung open, revealing the same therapist The Joker had walked off with. The man's face looked twisted with distress, and Amelia felt an urge to implore into why he seemed so upset.

"Ms. Quinzel, I'm sorry, but your time with Ms. Jane is up." he nodded to Amelia courteously before leaving. Harleen faced Amelia once again, her face in a frown.

"Amelia, today you've done a great thing by opening up to me. It means a lot that you trust me like you do."

Amelia fought the urge to laugh in her face. "Thank you." was all she could muster, covering up her laughter by clearing her throat, forcing a tears into her eyes. Harleen reached over and clasped Amelia's hand, giving her palm a squeeze. Amelia's eyes fell to Harleen's hand, the urge to cut each finger off, knuckle by knuckle, washed over her, yet she had nothing to do it with. She would keep that idea for a rainy day.

Harleen stood up first, Amelia second, again Harleen held the door open, this time Amelia muttered a thanks. Having the advantage of Harleen's back to her, Amelia walked with silent, convulsive giggles. It had been too easy, and all too much for her. As Amelia passed the barred cells of the hallways, getting looks from several of the patients, some of whom were rocking back and forth on her bed, she felt her eyes watering in laughter, as Harleen turned to face Amelia, Amelia brushed the corners of her eyes. Amelia noticed Harleen's sad smile, she knew Harleen must've thought she was still reeling from their interview. The guard walked over and opened Amelia's cell, handing her an orange jumpsuit.

"We'll have another session tomorrow, all right Amelia?" asked Harleen in her ever too caring voice. Amelia nodded, too scared that if she spoke, laughter would over take her. Amelia stepped behind her the iron bars and set her jumpsuit on the bed. Harleen smiled softly before she walked off down the hallway, Amelia listened for the last few soft clicks of her heels before erupting in laughter. She plopped down onto her bed, her loud laughter reverberating off of the stone walls.

"What's so funny, dollface?" purred The Joker from the cell straight across from hers. She'd have known his voice anywhere. Amelia had to choke down some of her laughter, coughing as it went down.

"The- the therapist. Harleen, she's too easy. Her, her face!" laughed Amelia, recalling the sad puppy dog look in Harleen's eyes as she told her about the several foster homes she visited.

"She struck me as the gullible type." called The Joker. Amelia looked over at him through the iron bars in her way.

"Believe me, she is. Every word, she bought it." said Amelia, coming down off of her laughing fit. Her laughter seemed to be contagious, as she started to come down from her laughing fit, The Joker began chuckling behind his bars. Their eyes stayed on one another, an equally understanding of the weak people, the objects like Harleen, how fun and easy they were to toy with. The silent understanding of the superiority they had over the objects.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Sorry that this one took ages. I just couldn't figure out what I wanted to do in this chapter. Hope everyone's Christmas/Holidays went well. Hope I get some nice detailed reviews out of this chapter. It's my favorite so far. Enjoy dolls. Review, Favorite, Alert, all of that nice stuff. Just a random question, anyone else a big Jimi Hendrix fan? I couldn't stop listening to Voodoo Child while writing this haha. Anyways, enjoy!**

Orange was beginning to become Amelia's least favorite color. The bright orange hue of her jumpsuit was practically begging her to rip it to shreds and light the shreds on fire. It hung loosely on her figure, giving her a shapeless and boring body appearance. She no longer stuck out inside Arkham Asylum; she had become just another shapeless, orange, slightly medicated number. It infuriated Amelia beyond measure. Amelia had prided herself in being above everyone, both physically and mentally; she would not bow to these people, this system.

_I will not bow. _

Amelia pulled her long brown hair back into a high ponytail and continuously ran her fingers through the silky strands that rested on the left side of her chest. She waited as patiently as she could for the incompetent guards to open the bars of her and the other inmates cells. Amelia's eyes stated fixated on The Joker's sleeping form. She had been noticing that he liked to sleep late; Amelia assumed that he rarely got to sleep when he was out. Amelia stayed there staring at him for what seemed like an hour, which was more than likely only three minutes, before she yelled down the hall, "You can jack off on your time, not mine!" Amelia was pleased at the chuckling that followed behind. The sound of jingling keys caught Amelia's attention immediately and put her in a lighter mood, her guard had become her new play thing in Arkham. She giggled to herself as she heard her thin guard marching towards cell. Somehow she had known that it was him.

"Chuck, it is Chuck, right?" asked Amelia as her thin, wavy red haired guard stopped before her cell. His head jerked up so abruptly Amelia thought he might have smacked his head on the bars.

"Uh, Charles actually." he corrected. Amelia narrowed her ominous blue eyes at him, she never like being corrected.

"Not that I really care what your name is. Anyways, I have to ask you a question." implored Amelia placing her hands calmly at the small of her back.

"Is it anything sexual?" he asked concerned. Amelia looked over and down her shoulder at him and gave him a coy smile, she had a good inch on him. Being a five foot ten woman had its advantages.

"Oh Chuck, you know me all too well, don't you?" purred Amelia. Chuck apparently didn't take to her sense of humor and tightened the handcuffs roughly around Amelia's petite wrists. Amelia silently winced and cut her eyes at Charles. "Would you like to know something Chuck?" asked Amelia playfully, her eyes still narrowed dangerously.

"What Jane?" asked Charles testily.

"Before I get out of here, I'm going to kill you and wipe the floor with your entrails." Amelia's smile grew slack and disappeared off of her attractive features, her full lips curled into a delighted smirk. Amelia watched silently excited as Charles's face wiped clear of any anger or resentment and was replaced by genuine fear. Her winter blue glare turned his summer brown to dust. She couldn't stifle the soft, barely there, laughter that trickled from behind her closed lips. Of course, in the past two weeks, all of Gotham had gotten word of who the newest, twisted, serial killer was. All of Gotham knew what she had done to her victims; what she was capable of. Her guard, Charles, was not excluded from this bunch.

"Do you want to go down to solitary confinement, Jane?" asked Charles in a intimidated voice laced with fright. He knew she could do what she had said; she would do it and not think twice about it. Amelia reveled in power of her own guard, the one who was supposed to have intimidation over her. He had learned quickly that Amelia was never intimidated, nothing scraped the surface with her.

"I don't know Chucky. Do you want to try and take me down there by yourself?" her voice had become extremely low and caressed with malice. Several delicious thoughts of what she could do to her guard made their way into Amelia's head, making her head swell with delight. The thought of slicing open his middle and taking an excavation inside his entrails, or perhaps beheading him with a dull blade that would drag out his pain and cause a lovely gurgling sound to flow from his mouth made Amelia lick her lips over in an almost sexually aroused manner. Amelia was aroused in a much more elevated way, not just sexually aroused and stimulated. Her mind was more aroused than her body was. Her interest was peaked, her fascination for what she might find by cutting him open was making her head ache with the need, the hunger, to slice him apart, in front of the inmates and everyone. As Charles gently led her out of her cell, Amelia watched The Joker's guard, a thick, frizzy blond headed, woman yank his hands around to meet her cuffs. She couldn't understand what he was saying to her but it was enough to piss her off enough to pick him up and slam his face against the wall, smudging some of his makeup. While Amelia passed him, The Joker gave her a half smile, Amelia merely turned her head away, uninterested.

"Do you fucking believe these freaks?" growled the heavy blond woman who was roughly shoving The Joker in front of her. The woman was breathing rather heavy, as though she and The Joker had had a struggle of some sort.

"_Freak._ You know, I've never liked that word. How about you, Amel_ia_?" asked The Joker playfully, a hint of dark laughter in the way he said her name. Amelia cut her eyes back at him but continued walking.

"Like I'm going to take into consideration what some overweight middle aged dyke has to say?" replied Amelia, brushing back her long hair with her shoulder.

"Like I should take into consideration what a murderer has to say?" scoffed the overweight woman. Amelia stopped walking, Charles bumped into her back, but Amelia didn't turn to look at him.

"I doubt you'd say that if my handcuffs were off. Would you like to know what I'd do if weren't wearing cuffs?" purred Amelia, staring into the pale green eyes of the female guard. The guard flinched just the tiniest bit, yet she tried to play it off, it was already too late, Amelia had seen it and smirked.

"Come on, Amelia. You don't need to be picking fights today." suggested Charles. Amelia turned her head to face him and smiled immediately.

"Picking fights? Is **that** what you call it?" laughed Amelia, any trace of anger completely gone from her face as she began to happily strut into the cafetiere. The brightly lit large cafeteria was nearly completely filled with inmates, guards, and several doctors that were watching all of their "patients" like hawks on prey. Yet as soon as Amelia strode into the room, every eye popped up to meet her but quickly turned away, some daring to dart their eyes on her once or twice more. Amelia watched pleased as several female nurses huddled together and began to chatter amongst themselves as Amelia walked in. She loved the power and control she seemed to have over these little toy people; she basked in the beaming rays of fear and genuine terror she held over them. She hadn't felt this feeling in what felt like years, it seemed more intense because of it. Charles guided her past the other inmates and over to a small table that Amelia had been placed at since her first day. It seemed, the doctors thought it best to have her away from the general population of the crazies. Inside she was itching to get at one of them and see what she could make them do under her control. It was always the crazies that seemed to obey her the best. They were the easiest. Amelia slipped into the chair and waited quietly as Charles undid her cuffs. As soon as her wrists were released, Amelia ran her long slim fingers over the barely red skin. The Joker sat right in front of her and also waited for his guard to undo his hand cuffs. His butch like guard and Amelia locked eyes and Amelia winked and blew her a kiss before she laughed at the ugly expression on the woman's face. Why the doctors thought it was best to put her and The Joker at a table together, Amelia couldn't figure out.

_Right, put to murderers together. That's the way to keep the casualties low._

Amelia fidgeted in her seat as her guard brought her over her food. It wasn't any more or less of what Amelia would normally eat. Food wasn't a priority to her. She only ate to survive. Amelia twirled the plastic fork around her green beans; the thought of shoving the fork into the eye of Charles made her chuckle. "What's so funny, toots?" asked Joker with a chuckle. Amelia looked up from her Styrofoam tray, her blue eyes flickered for a brief moment over his scarred cheeks.

"Thinking about reopening those scars of yours." purred Amelia with acidic laughter fluttering her words. Amelia watched with playful contempt as the Joker's tongue darted out of his mouth, his jaw tighten up, and his eyes grow colder over her own. Amelia took a small bite of her food without looking away from his almost frustrated stare. The Joker clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth before saying, "Seem a little tense, _**sweetheart**_."

Amelia took a breath through her nose as she leaned into the table, closer to Joker. "Take a look around Joker. I'm in an insane asylum with all of _these_," her mouth had curled into a disgusted grimace, her nose wrinkling as if there were a foul smell in the air.

"Insects. Toys." he giggled with malice, it was much lower than his typical clown cackle. It was much more masculine and much darker. The clear intent and want to inflict bodily harm was evident even in his laughter. Amelia nodded, insect was a good term for the sea of heads and blobs of orange that surrounded her. Her large predatory eyes searched the rows, the valleys, of people for the perfect specimen of prey. Someone that she could take her time on. A screamer. Amelia had never been one to be into drugs or alcohol, but if she had an addiction, it was to the destruction and end of a human's life. The word murder didn't seem to sum it up for her. For her, it was much more than just killing or ending a man or woman's life. It was art. It was sensuous. It was fun. It was having power; playing God. Ever victim and death was different than the one before it. Each puncture and cut was different and unique. She took her time with her victims and got to know what hurt them the most; she would memorize the sound and pitch of her victim's scream and whimpering. Being without her release, her conquers, she was edgy and felt unbalanced. This would not do for her. She couldn't possibly stay there any longer.

As Amelia was looking over the twitching and unkempt appearances of the 'insects', she locked eyes with a young black girl who's dark brown eyes were wide and wild and vulnerable. Her skin was blotchy and discolored; the blotches darker than her natural brown skin. Her hair was wiry and nappy and short, sticking out oddly out from her head. Amelia looked down at her arms and felt her lips twitch for a fraction of a second. There were deep scratch marks along this young girls arms and wrists.

_Nothing like a suicidal schizophrenic to get the blood pumping. _

"_Oh-__**ho-ho**_. You see something you like, don't you?" asked the Joker with a raise of the brows. Amelia looked back over at the Joker and gave him a half smile; her insincerity visible to anyone who dared to look her way.

"Why are you so interested in me? Don't have a thing for women like me, do you?" questioned Amelia, her voice rising just a slight bit higher than her typical tone. Her eyes and Jokers searched the others for several moments before he spoke,

"You _**uh **_you fascinate me. You know, I've met **many **people in my _li_fe, but never met someone like you-**ah**." he said as he ran his tongue over his scarred lips. One of Amelia's brows perked at this; her lips pulled into the corner of her mouth creating a small comma shaped dent.

"And you'll never meet someone else like me." Amelia said coolly, running her long fingernails through her hair that was still resting on her shoulder. Amelia turned her attention away from Joker, for he was beginning to bore her. She instead focused back on the young black girl who had caught her attention. The girl's head was lowered, but Amelia could still see her full lips moving. It was obvious that she was speaking to herself, or more to the voices inside her head telling her to do bad things. Amelia watched with peaked interest as the girl began to chuckle to herself; her fingers and nonexistent fingernails tightening around her arms and wrists. What ever was inside this girl's head, was making her want to harm herself. Amelia knew Schizophrenics too well. She had been in a few mental institutions in her life; except then, they kept her in the general population and didn't isolate her like the doctors at Arkham did. Schizophrenics were unbalanced and had frequent hallucinations. Some were even violent if they went untreated. Schizophrenics are fragile and very vulnerable to anyone. Amelia figured, that's what made them so much fun for her.

"_Why_ did you kill him?" asked the nasally voice of The Joker. Amelia turned back to him and pulled her plump bottom lip in between her teeth. Her cold sapphire eyes focused hard on his pupils, "You ask a lot of questions _babe_." she chuckled at his change expression; if it was one thing she knew, it was when a man wanted her, and he wanted her. "Why do you think you're special enough to _even __**speak**_to me?"

The Joker chuckled and leaned forward against the small table; both he and Amelia were only inches apart. "What? **You** don't think** I'm **special enough? That hurts, doll. I mean, after e**very**thing I've done and you _still_ say something like that?"he asked with mock hurt. Although, Amelia did catch a quick and subtle flash of anger crease the black paint under his eyes.

"I'm a tough critic. Besides, your stunts were rather boring, don't you think?" she watched with laughter bubbling in the back of her throat as Joker's jaw locked and his upper lip began to curl into a snarl. She knew the word 'boring' would set him off. It was obvious that he though very highly of himself. His expression quickly changed into something dangerously playful,

"Boring? _No_, no, no, no,** no**. None of the things_ I've_ done are boring at all. Far from it act**ual**ly. Now, killing someone in an alleyway, that's a little p_re_**dict**_able_, isn't i**t**?"

Amelia felt the urge to leap across the table and dismember him, but she decided to remain in her seat and keep a cool exterior even when her insides were on fire and livid. "Predictable?" she laughed loudly, exposing her neck as she tilted her head backwards. "Really? Hmm, and this is the same man who walks around in makeup and, day in, day out, steals and fucks around with another man in costume, and you call me predictable. By the way, how's **that** working out for ya?" her pride could never be tamed, like a wild savage animal when provoked, and constantly searching for something to devour and feed off of. As Amelia was lost in her soft fit of laughter The Joker's hands molded into fists, and he looked as though he were ready to punch her lights out, but before he got the chance, Charles came over and lifted Amelia up by her arm.

"Aw, look at you, couldn't even wait till lunch was over to put your hands on me, huh?"asked Amelia in a soft alluring tone that was laced with irritation. She gave Joker a sly grin, his anger was still obvious across his painted face.

"No, Jane. You've been called to court. Looks like you've got more charges to face." Amelia rolled her eyes as Charles slapped the cuffs around her wrists.

"And I don't even have a lawyer yet." said Amelia with false concern. She wasn't scared or worried about going to court or any of it. It didn't bother her like it should have; like it would have bothered normal people.

"You didn'**t** answer my question." said Joker in a much calmer voice than Amelia was expecting. "Why did you do it?" She laughter with certainty at what he was trying to do. Of course he was trying to get inside her head and dissect her like he did everyone else. As Charles began to pull her away and guide her to the door she cocked her head to the side and grinned.

"Because I wanted to."

- - - -

Amelia rested her head back on the uncomfortable car seat on the drive to Gotham's Courthouse. The drive there was nearly half an hour. Her neck was beginning to grow sore by the time they pulled up around the back. The building nearly blended in perfectly to the black and gray surrounding buildings, if only it hadn't been the size of four building put together, one would walk right by and not even know it was a courthouse. A large black male guard pulled Amelia out of the car by her upper arm, the cool wind battered against her bare face as he escorted her up to the large heavy metal door. She was still dressed in her orange unflattering jumpsuit, her hair still pulled back into a high ponytail, extenuating her well formed face. Amelia knew that even if there were pictures of her taken, her face would still be perfect. As the guard pushed the door open, another younger black male guard grabbed a hold of Amelia's arm and escorted her in. The other guard closed the door and grabbed a hold of Amelia's other arm. Neither of them spoke, not to each other or even as other guards passed them and said hello; they remained stoic and poised and closed off. Amelia had hoped that she might be able to get under one of the men's skin, but the more she watched them the more she realized that they weren't going to give or be much fun to her.

As the door to the elevator popped open and the guards pulled Amelia out, nearing the courtroom door, Amelia turned to the larger and older of the two men and asked,

"How do I look?" she purred with a coy grin. The older man looked over at her with unmoved wrinkles and brows, "Fine. Keep walking." Amelia licked over her teeth testily.

"That's not an answer, sweetheart." she giggled as the guard tightened his firm grip on her upper arm, his face hardening into a stern glare.

"Keep fucking walking." he growled. Amelia flipped her head so that her hair would rest on her shoulder. She accidentally swiped the larger guard in the face with her soft brown hair. As he pulled open the door, Amelia pulled her shoulders up and back, her chin raised just a fraction, and an almost invisible smile gently pulled at the corner of her mouth. Her blue eyes rose and fell over the handful of people that were packed into the courtroom. The room looked no different than any of the others she had ever been in. The tables and benches all made of mahogany wood and the floor a strange and cheap looking brownish red carpet. Amelia looked over at the prosecutors side of the court and felt her lips twitch at the sight of an older plump redheaded woman that she recognized immediately as Franklin's wife and the two children at her side, the young boy with his horn rimmed glasses and reddish blond hair, and the young girl with wide frightened brown eyes and long blond hair. Amelia pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth to keep from bursting into a fit of laughter. Franklin's wife looked over Amelia with wide, puffy, red eyes, her face blotchy and skin an uneven tone from her crying. Amelia gave the woman a half smile that only made the older woman bow her head in a fit of tears. Amelia reveled in the sound. As Amelia took her seat, she failed to notice the thin pale face of the middle aged man sitting next to her, but he didn't fail to notice her.

"Amelia Jane? I'm Michael Houser, your attorney. Pleasure to meet you. Of course, the circumstances could be better of course." he mumbled with nervous laughter. Amelia looked him over, unimpressed. His face was long and pale with a large nose that Amelia wanted to break to fix it. Michael's hair was black and thick and just long enough to tuck behind his small ears. "I'm sure you have found out by now that the state is pressing charges against you on two murders."

Amelia stared at him blankly, waiting as patiently as she could for the large guard to undo her handcuffs, and when he finally did, Amelia yanked her wrists away from him and onto the table. "Please rise, for the Honorable Judge Tassek." announced the younger of the two guards. Amelia begrudgingly stood up and twirled her finger in her brown hair that was lying on her shoulder. Amelia's eyes kept drifting over to Franklin's wife and children. Knowing that she and she alone was the cause of their suffering made Amelia's stomach jump with excitement and the blood in her veins to flow easier; she felt warm and stimulated all over. The salt and pepper haired judge with thin glasses perched on her equally thin nose took her seat up on the bench and looked over the files before her. Amelia sat back down but kept her eyes on the grieving trio, who's eyes stayed focused on the judge.

"What are the charges?" asked the judge in a crisp New York accented voice. The young man on the other side, the prosecuting attorney, stood up and pulled on the cuffs of his expensive looking suit.

"The charges against the accused, Amelia Jane, are two counts of murder in the first degree. More charges are on the way, your honor."

"Your honor, there will be no other charges. The other charges that Mr. Paige is speaking of are several other murders that my client was interrogated for, but not a shred of evidence was ever found to prosecute for. Not even a shred to make her a suspect. I call for a mistrial, your honor. Commissioner Gordon has been on a witch hunt of my client, accusing her of everything from grand theft, extortion, and now murder. None of which he has evidence for." Amelia looked up at her attorney and grinned, for someone who looked like he dropped acid daily, he seemed to know what he was doing.

"Your honor, Commissioner Gordon had every reason to suspect Ms. Jane, for she's been arrested for all of those crimes that Mr. Houser listed. In fact, she was witnessed at the scene of-"

"That was circumstantial evidence and was found admissible in court." cut Houser with a pointed finger at Paige.

"Your honor-" but the man stopped as the judge held up her hand to stop his blathering.

"Seeing how much evidence there is against Ms. Jane, it would be foolish of me to declare a mistrial. You'll have your day in court, Mr. Houser. Ms. Jane." said the judge in her swift, crisp, New Yorker accent. As Amelia stood up and but her hands behind her back a loud "HEY!" caught her attention. Amelia cut her eyes across the room to Franklin's wife, and Amelia's lips began to tug into a grin at the pain stricken look on the woman's face.

"You murdered my husband." she spoke in a shaky, dry voice. The guard doing her cuffs stopped and waited. Amelia turned her body to face the woman, wanting to catch every muscle movement in the woman's face. "You took my children's father away from them. He was a good man! He did anything and everything for us! Why? Why did you do this?" she hollered like a wounded elephant. One of the court officers stepped forward and held his arm out in front of her to stop her from crossing close enough to Amelia. Tears began to pour from the woman's aging sorrow filled blue eyes, and Amelia felt her skin light alive with sensitivity. Her cries reminded Amelia so much of Franklin's when he had asked her why she was torturing him. The sound brought Amelia back to that night in the abandoned warehouse. The woman's crying ceased to stop and only grow louder, delighting Amelia to no end. Amelia's face remained blank an expressionless, except the small grin that was forming on her full lips.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm sorry." said Amelia with false sincerity. She was positive that the woman had caught onto it as she attempted to lunge forward at her. Amelia remained calm and unmoved by the woman's crying and asking of "Why?".

_It's always why. Why is it always why?_

Amelia's dark, cold laughter rose to a boil in the back of her mouth as one of the guards began to haul her out of the courtroom.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Yeah, it's been a while, but I hope it was well worth it. I worked very hard on this chapter and revised it several times. I checked for any spelling/grammar errors, but if one slipped in, please excuse it:) Enjoy!**

"The trials for the murders of Cameron Bass and Franklin Garner are set to begin this Tuesday morning. The accused murderer, twenty seven year old Amelia Jane, is currently incarcerated inside Arkham Asylum. Several psychologists who have reviewed the case and the brutal way in which Ms. Jane, allegedly, killed these men have suggested that Amelia Jane has antisocial personality disorder. Therefor, she has no emotions, no conscious, and in other words, is a cold blooded, murdering, psychopath." finished the young platinum haired reporter dramatically. She was apart of several dozens of other reporters and camera crews all piled onto the steps of Gotham's Courthouse. Every reporter was discussing the same thing in a different way: Amelia and her alleged murders.

Amelia inwardly purred at the sound of the voices of reports in front of her car; the thousand foot steps charging at her door. Flashes went off against the side of her poised face. Attention was certainly welcome, as long as they didn't try to get too close to her. Only to a certain extent was it pleasurable and tolerated. She was allowed to dress in her own clothes for her trail, that much freedom, and the lack of cuffs, was given to her. A simple black knee length dress and heels were enough to have her pass as one of "them". Just another Gotham resident. Her attorney's idea, of course. As much as she detested an attempt at "blending", it made perfect sense. As long as she acted like one of them, not the superior woman she was, she would have them on her side. Truly, she didn't care whether or not she wooed the media and general public. Their opinion didn't really count. The only thought that kept her from telling her attorney to fuck off was the idea of sitting in a cell the rest of her life.

The media's support of her would pressure the jury members to declare her innocent, and she could get the hell out of Arkham, the hell out of Gotham, and find a new hunting ground.

"Are you ready to to face them?" asked Houser, adjusting his own tie and taking a preparatory breath. Amelia smiled. Was she prepared? The question in itself was ridiculous.

"Of course, Houser." Amelia turned to face him, his face slightly flushed, "Are you ready?"

Her eyes looked over his own. He was nervous. It was written all over his pale eyes and flushing cheeks.

"Of course." Amelia patted his cheek,

"You damn well better be. We've gotta hell of a trial to go to!" As soon as Amelia turned the handle of the door, she let her smile drop and kept her vision straight ahead. Her face hinted at no certain emotion, "keeping calm and neutral was key", she had remembered Houser tell her. It seemed obnoxious of him to mention something so obvious to _her_.

As soon as the door had opened, her vision erupted with bright flashes, cameras, and terribly done makeup. One inquiring question after the next was fired off like bullets in an endless magazine.

"Ms. Jane, did you murder Franklin Garner and Cameron Bass?" one cherry red haired woman asked loudly, shoving a mic in her face that read the number 14 in bright green on each side.

"Amelia, are there more victims? Have you murdered anyone else?"

"Are you going for the insanity plea, Amelia?"

"Amelia, are you dating anyone at the moment?" Amelia chuckled behind a charming smile that had parted her lips for a brief moment but closed again as she pushed through the reports, who immediately began to part her a walk way. She marched up the steps amidst the sea of reports who had parted her a path to walk through. They followed her like buzzing bees to a hive of sweet honey. Their questions were all the same thing, repeated in different ways and worded differently. It was becoming rather boring and an incessant bother to her, but she kept a cool facade as she neared the revolving door of the courthouse. It was critically important that she win them all over with her charm and good looks. Luckily for Amelia, she was very familiar with that. They were all too easy: gullible and easily persuaded.

"Amelia, did you kill Franklin Garner and Cameron Bass?" asked the same red haired female Amelia had seen before. She turned, her glass like eyes rose above all the flashing lights and the heads of reporters with their microphones focused in on her mouth for the words that they were so desperately hungry for. Amelia obliged to their appetite, "I have done nothing wrong here. Commissioner Gordon has made up disgusting and insulting allegations about me, and I am here today to profess my innocence and also bring to light Commissioner Gordon's prejudice against me. The real killer is still out there, _please_." a horrible taste had spread over Amelia's tongue at that word, "I ask all of you to believe in me and my innocence and not in Commissioner Gordon's lies. This would not be the first time Commissioner Gordon lied to have me locked away." The firestorm of questions that she knew would ignite did. As if on command, questions were ablaze all around here. Oh yes, her lawyer was in fact quite brilliant at digging through all of her old case files and finding the tiniest scraps of suspicious evidence and turning it into a gold mine of contradictions, faults, and lies on behalf of the Gotham police. Amelia turned to Houser and smiled, for her plan had been set so seamlessly into motion it seemed almost unfair to the prosecution. Informing the public, the media in particular, about something as vital as to how the evidence was collected and if everything was done according to the law, was enough to add more pressure to the prosecution.

"Mr. Houser, are you claiming that the evidence collected by the Gotham Police Department may not have been legally done?" asked a head of blond hair that Amelia could not attach to a face because her head was mashed between to large elbows. Houser stepped before Amelia and straightened his tie. It was far too obvious that he was enjoying the attention much more than he should.

"I am merely suggesting that the Commissioner and all of Gotham's finest should not only collect evidence in full compliance with the law, but also not go around accusing anyone of such a heinous crime. Now, if you'll excuse us, we have trial to attend to." Houser pulled Amelia's arm into his, guiding her inside.

As soon as the revolving doors spun shut behind them, Amelia slid her arm out of Houser's fingers,

"Excellent, Amelia." beamed Houser. He seemed overly pleased with how she had handled herself. Amelia looked over at him from the corner of her eye,

"Of course it was excellent. What did you expect?" she implored with bitter curiosity. Houser opened the door to the courtroom for her, where the damp eyes of the families met her with a serpent like hatred that coiled itself up her thigh and comfortably constricted itself around her waist. Her eyes licked hungrily over the faces of the families; each taste different than the last. The smallest spark of enjoyment flickered inside herself as she passed the rows of various family members. Their grief and sadness lay thick in the air like smoke. With each breath she took, Amelia could feel the sharpness of their smoke fill her lungs.

Amelia kept her eyes briefly on the faces of those people, studying the looks in their eyes; the hatred, the confusion, the hurt, the fear. It was disgusting how much pleasure she was taking out of this. It was like the courts designed to have the grieving families in the room just to amuse her. As if knowing she was enjoying this, Houser tapped his fingers on her now exposed forearm.

"Amelia, you look far too entertained. Eyes_ front_." Amelia's pupils widened in the way a cat's would when it spotted a plump spider. She wanted to smash her fist into the side of his overly large head. How dare he speak to her that way? As though she were a **fucking** child that was playing too loud in the doctor's office. She gave a low annoyed snarl before turning her chair to face the empty seat where the judge was **supposed** to be.

Any other person would be terrified to be sitting where Amelia was. Being accused of two counts of first degree murder was nothing to be taken lightly. Any other person would have been rattling his or her brain with overwhelming nerves. Yet Amelia sat as if she were waiting on a waitress to return with her check. In fact, she was becoming rather antsy sitting in the cheap and itchy seat, waiting on the judge. She found herself incredibly annoyed. Fear nor cowardice were feelings Amelia was too familiar with. But boredom was becoming increasingly familiar. This was not sitting well with the "accused".

Amelia grabbed Houser's wrist every two or three minutes, checking the time change. She could tell she was starting to irritate him, and it almost put a dent in her boredom.

"All rise, the Honorable Judge Tassek presiding."

"**Finally.**" Amelia groaned as she rose from her seat half bent before sitting down quickly. Houser gave her a piercing look that seemed to dull as soon as his eyes met her unamused stare. The salt and pepper haired woman looked the same as she had before but perhaps more distressed.

_Bitch has nothing to be distressed about, at least she isn't in a suffocating cell._

Amelia's temper seemed to be closer to the surface than usual. She wasn't getting her frustration out the way she was used to. Her anger seemed to be running it's nails against her rib cage, reminding her it was there and more powerful than ever. Every sense and shallow emotion become more heightened and easier to find.

"Mr. Paige, you may proceed with your opening statement." Judge Tassek offered up the court with her palm out. Amelia's mind seemed to wander off as both Houser and Paige gave their opening statements. Boredom was beginning to set in, but she knew she had to at least look like she was interested in what was happening. This was, after all, her trial. Even if her thoughts were about how enjoyable it was to see the victims families, and how she was incredibly hungry, she had to keep her eyes on the Illinois state seal. She couldn't completely nod off and wait to wake up when it was over.

"Now, " Judge Tassek paused to adjust her paperwork, "Mr. Paige, do you have your witness? Is he ready to testify?" Mr. Paige rose from his seat and ran his hands over the front of his pinstriped suit before facing Amelia and the rest of the court.

"Your honor, we call Commissioner Gordon as our first witness."

Amelia looked over at the twelve jurors sitting on her right. They had chosen them the previous week. Seven women, the two she could see clearly were one thin Asian woman and the other a middle aged blond. And five men, two white and three black. A nice diverse set. These twelve people were the ones that stood in the way of her and freedom. They were the twelve people she had to convince that she was innocent. Gordon wouldn't keep her locked in a cage like a feral cat. Even feral cats don't deserve that.

The large doors of the courtroom shuddered close as Gordon was led up to the witness stand. Amelia's dark brows challenged his fierce glare. The way he glared at her seemed to strike Amelia with a sense of hatred. He genuinely loathed her. The fact that she had left such an impression on him made her grin contently. Gordon laid his hand on the Bible and swore to tell the truth and then took his seat.

"Commissioner Gordon, how long had you been a police officer before becoming Commissioner?" Paige asked as he looked directly over at the jury, sweeping past Amelia. Gordon cleared his throat and leaned forward into the microphone,

"Almost twenty years." Gordon's weathered eyes wandered over to Amelia's well postured self. Even behind his glasses he could not hide his age. Paige meandered in front of the court with his hands linked behind his back and shifted his wide set jaw several times. Mr Paige, whom she'd learned was named Marcus, smiled over at Gordon,

"Dedicated man." Gordon shifted in his seat uncomfortably at the compliment, "You've done a lot in your twenty plus years on the force. You've seen a lot as well." Marcus Paige was rather attractive, dark hair and light eyes, muscular with broad shoulders and a charismatic grin that Amelia had not noticed before. By the way he dressed and strutted like a proud peacock, it was obvious he was a prideful man who thoroughly enjoyed the sound of his own voice. Perhaps she had not cared too much to look him over before, but now she was wondering why she hadn't.

"Your honor, is there a question here or what?" asked Houser as he rose to his feet. The pen grasped in his hand the same way Amelia would have her knife.

The judge looked over at Paige and nodded her head to Houser, "If there is no question here-"

"There is, your honor." Paige said gently with a tilt of the head. He continued his meandering as he pressed on,

"Now Commissioner, it's my knowledge that you have questioned Ms. Jane before. Is that correct?"

"Uh yes,** a few **times."

Amelia threw Houser a look, but before she could even say something he rose to his feet, "Objection, your honor. Ms. Jane's previous arrest are irrelevant to this case." Paige huffed impatiently, "Ms. Jane's previous arrests are perfectly relevant your honor. It shows prior disregard for the law."

"It's highly prejudicial, your honor." retorted Houser. Judge Tassek looked over at both attorney's and sighed,

"I have to agree with Mr. Paige," she removed her glasses and set them next to an open file, "but tread lightly, counselor." Mr. Paige bowed his head in gratitude before continuing. Amelia yanked Houser down to his seat, which caused a dull thud as his bony backside hit the chair.

"What is he trying to do?" hissed Amelia. Houser ran his hand over his black hair,

"He's trying to show your disregard for the law and a pattern." Amelia wanted to break his cheekbones for not arguing with the judge better. This was her** life,** dammit.

"What did you question Ms. Jane for?" Gordon chuckled softly under his thick brown mustache.

"A number of things." Gordon adjusted his posture, "Suspected burglary, extortion, theft, assault, intimidation, murder." Paige bowed his head as he paced in front of the witness stand.

"So it's fair to say that you've grown quite familiar with Ms. Jane."

"Yes."

"Your honor!" hollered Houser. The Judge pointed her unusually long finger at Paige, "Mr. Paige, move on."

"What went on while you interrogated Ms. Jane?" Amelia leaned forward in interest and watched every crease on Gordon's face.

"I questioned her about the murder of Cameron Bass."

"More like _hollered_." whispered Amelia just loud for Gordon's eyes to snap onto her. Paige pressed on, standing in front of Amelia, blocking her view of Gordon.

"How did she react to this news? Surprised? Frightened?" Gordon took a moment to answer, but Amelia could not see what he had done.

"She seemed a bit surprised, but much more calm than one normally is when accused of such a thing. She didn't blink when I showed her the crime scene photos. That's-" but he paused and gave a wordless sigh.

Paige nodded in his impatience, "Go on Commissioner."

"That's not the typical reaction when you show someone the crime scene photos, especially one's this gruesome." Paige headed to his desk and retrieved two photographs that Amelia recognized as those Gordon was speaking of.

"Are these the photos in question?" Amelia groaned as Paige handed the two pictures to the blond juror, who expressed her disgust openly before shoving the photos into the Asian woman's hands.

"Yes." Amelia was burning a hole through Paige, trying her hardest not to watch the reactions of the jurors. She was dangerously curious of what they would think. But she kept her curiosity muzzled.

"These being the photos of the Cameron Bass crime scene, correct?" Paige asked as he turned to face the open courtroom, resting his arm on the front of the witness stand. Amelia was on the very end of her seat, her hands folded placidly in front of her: masked calmness. Her expression unwavering and stoic, like a wax statue. Her intelligent mind was beginning to catch up to the magnitude that those photos and Gordon's testimony would have against her. Her chances of being deemed innocent were slim. She knew this, but it was all just beginning to become concrete. Everyone believed Gordon. He was good as they wanted him to be. The ever honest and justice driven Gordon.

Amelia's own pride of herself and her need for freedom sent a rib shaking wave of adrenaline and impulsivity through her body, causing her to break her statue-like pose.

"I need to testify." Houser was leaned back in his chair, rolling a pen between his fingers. He sat up quickly and leaned into her, throwing the pen down nosily.

"Are you out of your _mind_? You honestly think I'd allow _you_ to get on the stand?" he asked through condescending laughter. Amelia picked at her back teeth with her tongue and peeled her predatory eyes at him. Her teeth clamped down on her bottom lip aggressively.

"And what exactly does that mean?" she asked quietly through her freshly bitten pout. Houser raised what she assumed was some kind of "calming hand". Amelia saw it as an offering to pop off one of his knuckles.

"Amelia, you aren't exactly sympathetic." Amelia growled in disgust as her eyes crossed. "Whether you like it or not, Amelia, people need to see **some** emotions. They wouldn't believe you." Amelia's anger dissolved like chalk on a raining sidewalk.

"I can make them believe anything." Arrogance filled her statement. Her pride always her greatest flaw.

"All right." Houser mashed his lips together and shook his head away from Amelia. He was displeased with allowing her to make the rules, but what else could he do? He was** her** lawyer. "We're going to have to practice though. Have you answer every question as honestly as_ you_ can."

Amelia covered her mouth to discretely mask her low laughter. "As _I_ can." she repeated.

Paige retrieved the photos from the jury, from what Amelia could see were genuinely disgusted and disturbed.

_Good._

Paige looked down at Amelia with the same shade of arrogance Amelia had worn mere moments before. He turned the photos to the open court, to Amelia in particular. "Do these look familiar, Ms. Jane? Of course, you've already seen this up close and personal-"

"Objection, your Honor! Mr. Paige is blatantly attacking my client who isn't even on the stand to testify!" Amelia took this time to examine the photograph of Cameron's blood soaked neck. A rush of excitement came at the memory.

"Mr. Paige you're out of line!" howled the judge, smacking her gavel down. "I'm ordering a brief recess. Hopefully, Mr. Paige will have remembered the rules of this courtroom when we resume at twelve. This court is adjourned."

Mr. Paige kept his eyes off of Amelia, but stared down Houser with gleam of knowing superiority in his eyes. Houser couldn't keep his eye contact, as his eyes flashed down frequently at the photo of a milky eyed Cameron. Amelia looked over the unusually pale Houser, the tip of his large nose twitching. He was legitimately disgusted by the photo.

"Not used to seeing a dead body are you?" Houser nearly cracked his neck in surprise as he faced Amelia, his face beginning to refill with color. He licked his chapped lips profusely, intent on speaking, when Amelia's stomach gave a loud gurgling groan. She slapped her hand onto her knit covered stomach. Arkham's food was certainly not settling well.

"Let's get breakfast." Houser's brows creased in and his upper lip curled briefly. "What?" Amelia shrugged, "I'm hungry."


End file.
